and if all I've been born for is just to work my heart and my life away, and to sicken i' this dree place, wi' them mill-noises in my ears for ever, until I could scream out for them to stop, and let me have a little piece o' quiet; and wi' the fluff filling my lungs, until I thirst to death for one long deep breath o' the clear air; and my mother gone, and I never able to tell her again how I loved her, and o' all my troubles; I think if this life is th' end, and that there's no God to wipe away all tears from all eyes, I could go mad…
Bessy / Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell, North and South
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